


rotten.

by D3moira



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Cigars, Dick Jokes, Drabble, Dubious Consent, First Kiss, Freudian Elements, Hate to Love, Love/Hate, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Oral Sex, Power Dynamics, Power Imbalance, Power Play, Smoking
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-17
Updated: 2017-01-06
Packaged: 2018-08-31 13:20:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,443
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8580103
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/D3moira/pseuds/D3moira
Summary: Jerks attracted jerks, and assholes attracted assholes. Negan knew up and down what Rick was; it was a shame that the feeling wasn’t mutual.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Short lil thing written for a friend on Tumblr, based on a driveby kiss by Rick to Negan. There's a fraction of character flexing, to make this happen, but I hope you enjoy all the same! (Presumed pansexual!Negan because I have no time for that trope of 'oh gosh I like a boy what do I do'. Nope.) This is sorta canon compliant, set as of the first trip the Saviors made to Alexandria.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short lil thing written for a friend on Tumblr, based on a driveby kiss by Rick to Negan. There's a fraction of character flexing, to make this happen, but I hope you enjoy all the same! (Presumed pansexual!Negan because I have no time for that trope of 'oh gosh I like a boy what do I do'. Nope.)

There’s a stigma from the old world that always amused Negan. It was the idea that girls liked assholes, and that was the reason people stayed virgins till they were forty, pumping their own gas onto their Ikea desk. The problem there was that people assumed the girls were faultless, and the boys were jerks.

But it’s all give and take. From the very get-go, you have the expectation on one side that someone is providing, and someone is taking. This went for food, for clothes, for fucking, everything had a trade element to it. Every fucking handhold was a pursuit of a higher gain, and Negan? He got that. He used that, he promised that, and he delivered that. With each girlfriend he secured a little love and gave them security. Fucked if he could recall a name, Becca, Amy, Stacey, a bunch of sweethearts, but ultimately too dependent; too easily manipulated.

Where was the fun in that?

Now, Negan, he was a liberal kind of guy. He believed in equality, in taking as much as giving. With his stature, with his charisma, he could take all the live long day. But he wanted to give back, because he was a good fucking guy. This started with Lucille, a girl a few years younger with a sweet mouth and sweeter assets, and built from there. He took from her the affection and the kindness, and provided her with a good fucking time.

Then the world ended, and Negan was in a whole new place. He worked with others, he negotiated, but ultimately he had been a smart man. He had been a fierce man, too, and a good leader. This set him up as a goddamn messiah, the prophet of a new world and new way of life.

And that left him in the unique position of being a target. Whether it was out of spite or jealousy, his suppliers had a problem and they lacked communication skills. They went the route of the cavemen, and they ran out with their weapons in hand. And that did not sit well with Negan, because in this pursuit of revenge or rebellion, there were people out there who had taken from him.

A few settlements tried this, and they lost a good portion of their people. Those that were left either got put on a pole, or they were obedient within the Sanctuary walls. But this new group? These new fuckers who shredded the shit out of his livelihood? They took his people, his guns, his fucking supplies, and they gave him nothing but a kick to the nuts in return.

Negan couldn’t stand that. Neither could Lucille, but she was patient. It seemed an abstract link, how girls liked assholes, how people had ransacked his base, but people are basic. People need to fuck, people need to eat, and people need to shit. They’d sleep, they’d piss, they had the same basic needs. The extras that made life lusher? That was where wars thrived.

But people, and their attachment to jerks? It worked at a massive scale, settlement against settlement, country against country, and then it worked here. Rick was tired, no doubt about it. It showed in how slanted and sloped his posture was, as if the weight of Negan’s mere presence was enough to kill him.

“What’re you doin’ there, huh?” Negan had his chin half a foot away from Rick’s ear. There’s a shake, straight down the center, and Negan grinned. “You hidin’ something? C’mon, show.” The phrase is playful, but the tone is not.

Negan had meant it when he’d said that the food here was going to be left for Rick’s people. He needed them to be fit enough to go get supplies, and they had so much more shit to take. He stepped back, enough for Rick to right his posture, and he saw it.

Baby food.

“Aw! Either you’re a baby daddy, or you can’t take anythin’ hard down that throat of yours -- which, shit, may be my fault. Must be hard t’swallow with my dick in there.” His teeth were bared in an expression akin to yikes. He leaned forward to snatch the jar, which came with a fight. He inspected it, disheartened by the date. This shit was way out, even before the world fell apart.

“You might wanna reconsider this, my man. ‘Less you wanna kill the baby with some bad fuckin’ food poisoning. Which, I really am not onboard with.” He palmed the jar off, back to Rick. His hand lingered on the other’s wrist, as he tried to get a read on the man.

Rick met his eye, but not really. There was a difference between looking at someone and seeing someone. Right now there’s that same vague, shellshocked little man with a jar of apple sauce clasped in his mitt.

“Rick, I told you, I’m not taking your food! Lighten the fuck up.” Negan tongued his lips apart, an open-mouthed sigh. “See, plenty of parents, they do some dumb shit to keep their kids alive.” His tone dropped, his hand still fastened to Rick’s wrist.

There’s no dismissal on Rick’s face, and so he pressed on. He liked that; when Rick paid attention.

“We’ve had some heinous fuckin’ shit happen ‘cause of spoiled baby food. Was a real problem with new people; they’d take whatever they could, lose a baby to consumption and shit. Man, that is the saddest, those tiny little graves. The kids, they’d get barfy, shit themselves, it’s bad -- but hey, far be it for me to judge.” There’s genuine remorse in his words, because Negan could kill people all day but kids -- it’s a different feeling. It’s the closest he got to regret.

But he could do it, if he had to, if it was life or death. He isn’t so proud as to claim otherwise.

It happened so fast that Negan thought Rick was in for the attack. His hand formed a fist, ready to return the hit, but he was mistaken. Oh fuck yes, he was mistaken, and that normally got him all kinds of pissed, but not now. Instead he got a tongue and teeth and beard, and it’d been at least a few months since he’d had a guy try this shit out.

Negan knew that one hand had the rancid baby food, but he grabbed either wrist all the same. He isn’t so stupid as to believe this, but fucked if he was gonna stop Rick. It amused him, down to his bones, the need that came out of someone who was lost. Widows. Always the widows. Maybe he was wrong, maybe Rick had a wife out there somewhere, in here, or a fucking husband, but right now that’s pretty much irrelevant.

And it’s cute. So cute. Because Rick? This might be his first kiss with a man. He vyed for control, the same that Negan held with just about everyone else. He pressed down, a hard bite to the other’s bottom lip because Negan is not a bitch. Fuck no. He’d been here before, he knew how this shit worked.

There was a smash as the jar hit the floor, the stench of apple sauce turned rotten, and then Rick was off. He looked terrified, and as he fucking should be. He had taken something substantial from Negan, and now he had to earn it. Negan drew a shaky breath, a mile wide grin in place and unlikely to leave.

“Tease!”

Jerks attracted jerks, and assholes attracted assholes. Negan knew up and down what Rick was; it was a shame that the feeling wasn’t mutual. If Rick would climb on down from his high horse, he may well see what the world could be. All he had to do was behave. Simple shit, really. Negan would keep him safe, and Rick would keep him fed.

Simple.


	2. smoke.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "It's a oneshot," I said. "It'll only be short," I said. I got a few comments about how people wanted to see more, so I guess? We can try. This is just a huge excuse for me to write Negan, let's all be real.

Human psychology went from a hobby to a necessity after the outbreak.

It helped him understand the students in class, how to motivate and push them without tears. Or with tears, if they pissed him off. It was never as direct as a shout because it was too easy to shout. You bellow and wail and someone is gonna cry. But that kind of anger is a weakness. If you're too angry, then you lose control. There is only so much pure fear can get you from someone.

No.

He understood the slow, gradual method of barbed comments, the kind society loved best. They were lined with kindness and untraceable to the ear. Those comments festered inside someone, turned them sour. Slowly, so slowly, they’d set themselves on the path you intend. All without a direct link to your work, or to your words.

It’s all about patience.

Then there was the weekend gig at a Mercedes outlet, where he’d help hawk off junkers for too high a price. This was a similar method, where he’d plant the seeds as soon as he’d shake someone’s hand. Throughout the test drive, the banter, people would forget about the shitty car and warm up to him.

People want someone to tell them what’s good for them. Especially weak people. They didn’t recognize it, how he’d set a hand on their thigh, raise an eyebrow, elbow a rib, banter. He would act like he was their best friend for an afternoon. They signed the contract, handed over their life savings, and Negan was set. He'd leave with a mile-wide grin and hell, maybe a hand job if the girl was cute enough.

There was Sally, who went through cars faster than boyfriends. She worked in real estate, in apartments, and she’d always come in to look at a new car. The old one would be sold off to someone because Sally was like Negan. She knew how to talk things up and strike a weakness. Maybe that was how she secured more of his time and went from a mistake to a habit.

Negan wasn’t above mistakes, or habits. He smoked and drank, a little of each, something about a father who didn’t care enough. The phrase oral fixation got thrown around, but Negan didn’t care for Freudian theology. He cared about the subtleties of language, how it didn’t matter what you said, it mattered how you said it. He talked, and talked, and said so little.

But he kept your attention the whole time.

Negan palmed the wrought iron chair, his attention settled on his good buddy Rick. They’d become good buddies. There was no way he’d have let Rick get away with the shit he’d pulled in food shack. Storage room? Whatever the fuck they called it. He hadn’t made mention of the kiss because he’s a good guy, and Rick hadn’t said a word. Not that he spoke much anyway. He was so set on obedience, he’d lost any personality. It was sad to watch, or it would be if it weren’t so satisfying.

“Enjoyin’ the sun?”

Nothing.

“Rick. C’mon. You shy? Don’t normally kiss a guy on the first date? I didn’t figure you were that kinda guy, but I guess we have so much to learn. S’why this is gonna be fun, Rick. Real fucking fun.”

There was a crackle of steps on gravel, which Rick looked to but Negan ignored. He had his attention focused on Rick. What would his little group say if they knew he’d cracked in the gayest way possible? Aside from a direct drop to the knees and tongue to his dick. Next time.

“Negan, we found some cigars.”

“Lars, my man!”

And what a box they had found. It was one of those fancy wooden ones, the sort that businessmen had to celebrate deals. Or, the kind people got to pretend they were fancy. Same shit, different smell. He accepted the box with a dip of his head and a genuine ‘thank you’. Lars looked excited, bright eyes and freckled skin. The kid was -- what? -- twenty?

“Here.” He palmed one of the cigars off to Lars, who stuffed it away with a grin. The expression waned when Lars’ attention slipped to Rick, and for that Negan was highly amused. “G’on, go find me some scotch. The good shit!”

Lars didn’t need another prompt because he was well-trained. Negan loved people who were well-trained. Sure, there was a fun in a project, but most people came willingly with him. He snagged out two cigars from the box, to toss it onto the iron table. It clattered with enough force to snap Rick’s attention, a flinch.

“What’s th’matter there, my man?” Negan stuck his tongue out between his teeth as he fought a lighter. It was stuck in the pocket of his jeans, the stupid fucking thing. “Take a seat. We got shit to discuss,” Negan said, his teeth then settled into his bottom lip.

Rick hesitated.

“Sit, or I’m gonna make you kneel.”

Negan watched as Rick sat, weary at his joints. He didn’t look to Negan, and that went without surprise.

The garden around them was in the throes of autumn. Everything was lit orange and red, though there was still greenery to be seen. The table seemed to be in use, given it was still white and fresh. Maybe someone had even painted it recently. What a cute little place this was, how fucking lovely.

“You killed his dad. Or, one of your people did. Slit throat at the outpost. Sucks to be Lars, right.” Negan stood, hip cocked to the side as he lit his cigar. He took a deep, deep drag from it, tongue in motion around the smoke. He exhaled, up and into the air around his head. He let his gaze slide sideways to Rick, who had taken a great interest in the tile work beneath him. “Older guy, forties, fifties. Kid was devastated. S’fucking sad, Rick, leavin’ an orphan. Kid has to earn points for him, his old lady, couple of sisters -- ”

The sound of Lucille ground into the tiles made him shift, teeth bared.

“Hey, watch your fuckin’ manners there Rick.”

There was silence now, where Negan had his finger pointed in Rick’s direction. Still, no eye contact. Not even a response. Negan could demand as much. He could make Rick sing gospel from the top of a building if he wanted to, but it felt petty.

Rick slacekened his grip on Lucille, and the grind of wood against stone had stopped.

"Good." He sighed through his nose, the residual smoke pushed out around his face. He palmed his hair back, eyebrow raised at the garden around them.

“I’m just sayin’, this hero shit you’ve been playing at… You get this, right? I bet you anything there’s been some group of people you’ve fucked up, fucked over, killed -- or, you’re a pussy bitch. Whatever. I saw the video, your uh -- your _audition_ for amateur porn.” He grinned.

“No.”

“No what?”

Rick looked up to Negan, a shake of his head, mouth open to protest further. He opted to close his mouth instead, a firm few shakes of his head. He dropped his chin, those baby blues too interested in the dirt rather than his new messiah.

“No, you don’t get it? Because I thought I made it very fucking clear, Rick. I showed you -- oh my God, really?” Negan burst out with a laugh. He moved forward, to snatch at Lucille.

The movement was enough to startle Rick, who flinched back and away. Enough that Rick tugged Lucille behind him, and all Negan could grab was his scraggly jaw.

“No, no, we haven’t -- we haven’t screwed anyone over.”

“You fucked me over, didn’t you? Or are you saying that killing my men, that’s just -- what? Fun? That’s a good ol’ laugh at the Grimes household?”

Rick stayed silent.

“Fuck Rick.” Negan frowned. The pieces of the puzzle all there. Rick had said that in his defense, to assure Negan that they wouldn’t screw his people over. He could see it in how Rick flinched and faltered. There is that desperate need to do as he’s told. Except there was the defiance in him that Negan recognized early on.

It took a long moment, longer than Negan was comfortable with, but Rick moved first. He offered Lucille up, handle extended. Negan allowed his hand to drop from Rick's jaw, thumb dragged across the grain.

“You are carrying that today. But, it’s been noted, that you don’t screw people over. Better not be a lie.” He took another long drag, teeth bared as he exhaled. “Honestly, I thought we’d gotten closer Rick. Thought we’d really made progress after you went and _made_ me take out that Asian kid and that ginger asshole.”

“We have made progress.”

“See, I’d hoped so.” Negan held the cigar aloft, thumb tapped at the head. He looked between it and Rick, the spare one still in his left hand. He plucked the lit one from between his lips, to offer it forward to Rick. It was well lit by this point, and happily burned away. “Here.”

Rick shook his head.

“Wasn’t a request. You gotta learn that, Rick. Nine outta ten times, I only ask to be nice.” He wiggled the cigar at Rick, shifted by his thumb and forefinger. “Any cooties I have, you already got my man.”

Negan _jumped_ at the speed with which Rick accepted the cigar. He’d snatched it and taken a longer hit than was advised, and it showed in how his eyes watered and his face went red. It took everything inside of Negan not to laugh at the way he struggled, and at how the smoke choked out the other man.

Instead Negan lit the second cigar. He took a seat in one of the other patio chairs. There were four in total. He knocked one over with his foot, for kicks. It landed with a solid clang, the kind that came from proper iron furniture. He grinned with glee at how Rick jumped, his tongue in motion against the head of his cigar.

“This is nice, isn’t it. Two guys, hanging out.” He took a drag, to puff out the smoke above his head.

Rick continued to smoke the cigar, but at a far slower rate. He looked hilarious with the cigar in his mouth like he’d never smoked one before. Maybe he hadn’t. Today was full of a lot of firsts. But Negan watched, because what else did he have to do? There were plenty of houses here, and his people needed time to pick over them.

Even in this ease of control, Negan found no relief. He stressed over the settlements, over his people, and over the growth of his numbers. People loved to fuck, and that meant more kids, and holy shit did kids need a lot. He needed the kids to be happy, because if they weren’t, then the parents weren’t happy. And that was just the basic operations of the Sanctuary.

There were settlements in revolt, where they’d source weapons or try to put up a fight. The Sanctuaary had disease, hunger and the assholes who abused the system. Seriously, he loved it, loved the power, loved the control, but there was so much more than this. But to Rick, dear, sweet, stupid as fuck Rick, it was only this.

“You gonna make an honest woman of me?”

Rick flinched, but Negan had begun to understand that movement. It wasn’t a flinch away from Negan, not the way he expected. It was a suppression of a deeper desire, likely one of violence. That was an important distinction. Actions taken out of fear were usually for self-preservation. Anger, revenge, whatever, they were the kind that set Negan on edge.

Violence was a problem, because it didn’t matter who went down. This place had women, children, probably a few older people. He didn’t fucking _want_ to have to turn them into an example, and he needed Rick to cooperate. It wasn’t as simple as Negan against Rick.

The Sanctuary was a group founded on responsibility, strength and capital punishment. Alexandria was an outlying group of fucking savages. They tore through his numbers because -- what?

He still didn’t know what great atrocity his people had done to earn such treatment. What made them so justified in this slaughter, where he was a monster for the lives of two men? Three, if you counted Daryl.

Every man was the hero of his own story. That shit drove him crazy.

“Are you gay or what?”

Rick spluttered this time, a snarl evident on his lips.

“Okay, that’s a no. So, closeted? Or, shy?” Negan elbowed the arm of the chair, to look at Rick. “I’m not judging. I don’t give a fuck. Just trying to understand if that was like a panic thing, that you kissed me, or if you were trying to fuck me.”

“Are you?”

“Am I -- what? Gay? Wow, what an intellectual comeback there Rick, let me just take a second to appreciate the magnificence.” Negan laughed. “But uh, if you think for a second, you’ll remember I literally just said I don’t give a fuck. Not gonna crawl on all fours for no one, not about to get fucked in the ass, but a hole’s a hole, _c’est la fucking vie_. So long as I do the fucking -- I love to fuck people.”

Whatever Rick had expected fell away, as fast as his gaze. He was back to the strict attention on the ground, angry at every edge. He was all bunkered down, maybe shy, maybe embarrassed.

“All you gotta do is ask _real_ nice.” He grinned with absolute confidence, not a shade of embarrassment. He’d fucked guys in college, usually the prettier of the boys, but he didn’t date them. He loved pussy, loved tits, ass, whatever was soft and felt good.

Rick focused his attention on his cigar, knuckles white as he held the body of it. The apple of his throat bobbed, and Negan could only imagine the amount of shit that Rick wanted to throw his way. It wasn’t as if he hid it, but he didn’t discuss it either.

“Yep, shy.” Negan tapped the ash out onto the ground. He leveled a kick against the last unoccupied chair, which scattered across the pavement. It hit a potted plant which fell over, to Negan’s utter delight. “Shit! Sorry.”

“I don’t wanna fuck you.”

“Sure you don’t.”

The palpable anger from Rick was delicious in itself.

“Heel.” He’d gone too easy on Rick, honestly. He jerked his chin at Rick, eyebrow shifted for emphasis. “C’mon, come over here. Pop a squat, Rick.” He kicked at the ground in front of him. At least this was pavement. There was gravel a few paces away, which was a bitch on the knees, he was sure.

Rick moved without a second request, and Negan settled further into his seat. He kept his hand on the cigar, thumb at his chin, fingers around the body. He watched as Rick came to stand in front of him, the cigar popped out the corner of his mouth.

“I said heel, not loom.”

Rick sank down onto one knee, oh but the fucking _look_ on his face. He was careful, more than usual, but there was that same glint that spoke of murder. Because Rick was like him, weaker, softer, but on a similar axis. He set a foot onto Rick’s knee, to rest his elbow on his own knee. “I want you to get used to this Rick. On your knees, loving it, asking for it. Just, commit to memory.”

He angled his foot to push Rick’s knee down, so his posture dropped that fraction more. The shift brought Rick closer, almost enough to yank his head into his crotch. But that wasn’t the point of this. “I have rules. And I don’t get off on forcin’ people to fuck me, or suck me off, or whatever the fuck people do for power trips. So don’t go all doe-eyed frightened -- so far, you’ve tongue fucked my mouth, and I took it.”

Rick hadn’t moved, head back enough to meet Negan’s eye.

And it was a glorious sight.

Negan drew the cigar away, to exhale a long breath down at Rick. “One day you’re gonna beg to suck my cock, and if you’re really good _,_ and I mean _really_ fucking good, I might let you.” He stooped down with each word, elbows on the arms of the patio chair. He looked over Rick’s face, his cigar pinched between his thumb and forefingers. He hung his hand away, inches from Rick.

“Now get the fuck up. We got shit to check out.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I named Negan's mistress Sally because Sally Jupiter ala Watchmen. ;)


	3. go on and pray.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This get Intimate. Rules are set up. Trust is formed and broken. Also, a blowjob.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh jeeze, dudes. Thank you all for the support and this chapter is just... Ooh boy. This is a 4am nightmare, please enjoy my sleepy brain shenanigans.
> 
> This fic is dub-con as fuck, so apologies in advance. Gotta love that unreliable narrator.

And so, shit was surely checked out.

Alexandria had been torn open from sternum to ass, all the guts laid out on the street. There was furniture and appliances, with an emphasis on the medical supplies and functional electronics. They had plenty in the way of basic supplies, and food was too easy to take. It went bad and they had so much to begin with, it was better to leave the food for the people. They would be so thankful that they wouldn’t recognize what a step back the rest of their settlement was, because they had food.

Fucking idiots. Gotta love them.

“S’been a good day Rick, sure, had a hiccup with that chick uh -- glasses. Olivia.” He snapped his fingers, only to jab Rick when he recalled the name. But he knew it. It’s about the lack of importance, as expressed to the people at large. You intentionally forget their names, it pissed them right the fuck off.

“We got it resolved,” Rick said in a level voice, attention downturned.

Negan kept in step with Rick, his girl Lucille tucked within Rick’s hand while Negan kept hold of a neat pistol -- a Colt, which was a fucking beautiful piece of work. He didn’t know where it’d come from, but it would be a prize in itself. He had his own guns, his own preferences, but the Colt was an ornate fucker. It had to go to someone who’d enjoy that.

Joey. That’d be the ticket.

The sweltering heat of Virginia continued to sap what little water he had left inside him, the sweat in tracks down his back, his sides. He felt like a pig on a spitroast, baked to a tender state. Rick looked no better, maybe even worse.

“Hey, so I have a fucking question. Earlier,” Negan began, head tipped to the side. “You had baby food. That for you or…”

Rick looked to Negan, eyebrows furrowed.

Negan wiggled his shoulders from side to side, his head in the lead. “Work with me here honey, I don’t wanna yank teeth to get a simple fucking answer outta you. It’d be a damn shame -- ”

“It wasn’t for me, no.”

Negan made an  _ oh _ shape with his mouth, lips stuck in that shape despite the smirk.  It softened and sprawled as he let out a deep, thoughtful sigh. “I love kids. Love ‘em. They’re so fucking squishy, you just wanna squeeze ‘em till they fucking  _ pop _ .“

“Don’t.”

“Don’t you fucking  _ don’t _ me.” Negan’s brows shot up, bourbon irises directed to Rick. “I’m allowed to love kids.”

Rick rolled his shoulders, Lucille shifted in his grasp.

“I wasn’t fucking serious, shit -- I’m not gonna pop someone’s fucking  _ baby _ . What, you think I’d actually run around to kill babies for fun, or some fucked up shit like that?  _ Fuck _ me Rick, can you just calm down for two seconds and think.” He snorted, lip snarled over sharp teeth. “What the fuck have I done to make you think that?”

There’s a laugh, an honest to God  _ huff _ of a laugh from Rick, and Negan can’t decide whether to be incensed or excited that he got that laugh for free. There’s a shift in his stance though as he realized what he had done.

“Nothing.” Rick looked terrified more than happy, as the sound hadn’t been permitted.

The pair exchanged a look, Negan confused while Rick resumed the deference.

“I fucking get it, I killed your gingersnap crackle and and Shortstop, but I don’t see how that turns into, oh dunno, I love to fucking murder children.”

“I didn’t say that.”

“No, you didn’t, but you fucking laughed. C’mon, I wanna meet ‘em. Kids love me.”

Rick swallowed hard, harder than he’d meant to. That was all Negan needed, in the switch of stance and the desperation in his eyes.

Oh, it’s his kid.

Oh fuck yes.

“You worried the kid will love me? I’m pretty fucking lovable. Cuddly, too. Always run real hot, I’m like a fucking electric blanket.”

“No,” Rick spat, only to shake his head. “She’s asleep.”

Negan loomed closer, shoulders that much wider than Rick. His stature allowed him the privilege of easy intimidation. He worked at it, he worked on how to stand and how to angle himself, but that had come from a brief stint as a bouncer at a club. It was easier to turn away a fight with your posture than to fight every fucker who talked big.

Most people were pussies, as he had learned time and again.

“Wake them up then.”

Rick stared in response, lips parted with the refusal he couldn’t find the strength to say. But it was there, in the lack of response, in how he remained still.

The walk had taken them sideways, away from the main street of Alexandria. There was the occasional pass of a Savior with a chair or a swath of fabric, but it was solitary. More than Negan liked, but at least he was covered from all sides.

Negan got where he was through people, and how he read them like Ikea instructions. All you needed was their little fucking weird key, and you could make them do whatever you wanted. What he wanted was for Rick to chill the fuck out, but more than that, he’d wanted to press Rick’s buttons.

There were thick hedges and a sweet little cover of crisscrossed wood and vines. It made it easier to focus down on Rick, who seemed to have short circuited.

Or he’d jump started the other man, because there’s a tongue and teeth all over again.

Negan made a low sound of surprise, his smile too wide to facilitate a real kiss. He got it, what this was; it was a diversion, a distraction from the question. He wanted to see the kid still, and he would, but he’d play the part. He growled down into the kiss, which felt too much like an attempt at  _ dominance _ .

Oh, sweet Rick, the world yet heavy upon your shoulders or whatever the fuck you wanted to call it.

All it took was a firm twist of Rick’s arm, from the wrist till his elbow was angled outwards. The cry of pain yanked from low inside his throat is a kick to Negan’s stomach, but that could come in time.

“The fuck, Rick? You bring me down this secluded fucking walk to neck?”

“No.”

“Where’s your house, Rick?”

Rick lifted a hand, to point to the lamest little white picket dream home. It was so fucking  _ cute _ that would make even Barbie cream her magenta shorts.

“That where the kid is?”

There’s a long pause and a nod, though Rick had his gaze fixed on the ground.

Negan twisted his arm, enough to encourage eye contact once more. He smiled down to Rick, a gentle curve to his lips as he examined the other man. “And they’re asleep?”

Rick exhaled, an honest to God  _ tear _ on his face. Negan wanted to cry in tandem out of joy. He wouldn’t hurt a child, not for no good reason. Rick had been good, if a little slutty, but Negan  _ liked _ slutty. He tongued the corner of his lips, the hand still fixed on his wrist. He dipped down low, his free hand framed now against his jawline. 

“So we gotta find someplace else to fuck.”

There’s a flash of confusion on Rick’s face, as if he didn’t know what to say.

“What, that’s what all this is about right? I fucked you every other way, not like I can’t see the job through.” Negan continued to smile with the same fondness, hand gripped against Rick’s jaw. “You aren’t just kissing me to stop me from killing people, are you? ‘Cause I haven’t tried to kill anyone, not unless you earned it. So you’re on my dick, in my mouth, I gotta assume that’s what this is about.”

Rick continued to stare, as if in search of the part two. Which was fair; Negan would do the same in his shoes.

“I’m not gonna fuck you if you don’t want me to. But you’ve crawled up in my space twice now Rick, two fucking times, so I gotta wonder what the motives are here.”

There’s a shift in stance, his grip softened on the man’s arm. It was the same one that held Lucille. It was a bonafide threesome, and he hadn’t even realized it. They were still close, closer now for the shift in angle. It would be easy to punch him or knock him down. It’d be even easier to kill him as an example, but that wasn’t what interested Negan.

Negan liked Rick. He couldn’t explain why, the scraggly little jackass had warmed the cockles of his cock.

“What’s the go, babe? You wanna fuck or not?”

Negan watched as Rick weighed the options in his mind. He offered no threat or promise, and he wouldn’t punish Rick for a refusal. He had plenty of girls corner him in a similar way, some he fucked, some just wanted to feel another body beside them. He didn’t angle to fuck them, it just happened. Humans are wired to fuck and churn out babies, the same as any other creature.

And sometimes they ignored the latter part, with no potential baby churned out. Not unless you counted sperm splattered out across floorboards or skin, whatever was there.

Rick shrugged, another laugh pushed out between slim lips. He couldn’t even look up at Negan, though tears remained streaked across his cheeks, his eyes red. It was a mess, which Negan got. He got all worked up on this fabricated future, wherein Negan played darted with a baby.

There was a house beside them, one with wide windows and a second story. It looked much the same as the other houses, white and tan on the outside and plenty good for his intent. He let go of Rick, hands raised in deference.

“Your choice.”

A lie by omission is still a lie. Negan could offer forward reassurance that the kid would be safe, but Rick wouldn’t ask. He had made up his mind as he stumped his way to the home beside them, rather than the home he’d pointed to before. Negan made a note of it all the same, a low chuckle loosed as he followed in step.

The door was locked, but Rick snatched a key from the fuse box. Negan watched with idle curiosity, the same as he had throughout the rest of Alexandria. He was a guest after all, a guest and the new leader, but a guest all the same. He kept in step with Rick, a gentle touch to a statue by the door that professed “Live, Laugh, Love”. He grinned at it, to palm along an ornate mirror.

The familiar gaze of bourbon eyes and a too-thick beard smiled back, no shyness in how he admired himself.

“Fuck, wish I had some time just to shave, but I am so fucking busy -- you know how that shit is, huh.”

Rick scratched at his scalp, Lucille held aloft.

The home was dusty though used. Negan passed judgement across the couches, the decorations, the clean as fuck look of the place. Were there more defences, he’d snatch this shit up in a second. Each wife could have a home of her own, maybe a few men, but the plans were thrown aside as the complexities took over.

Negan wanted shed off his jacket and his boots, but that wasn’t how this went. His clothes stayed on as much as possible, while the other… Well.

“Strip.” Negan said, no lead in to the request. “Hate t’have some concealed weapon. It’s a safety requirement for this ride babe, so if you fucking please.” He added this after the fact, another genial smile sent towards Rick. The other had no issue in this, though Negan showed him enough respect to close the front door.

He stepped around the lounge, only to take a seat on the suede couch. There would be a bedroom somewhere, but he couldn’t do that. A bed felt too old-fashioned, and had sentimental value to it. A couch was more transient, and left less room for cuddling. Not that he expected Rick to be a cuddler.

Rick had his shaky hands in motion at his shirt, though his attention was fixed elsewhere.

“This is all you Rick. I’d be totally down to forget all about this, go make nice with your family, be a good guest. Honest.”

“No, I want it.”

“Oh!” Negan shifted, a genuine gape to his mouth. “What the fuck was that?”

Rick’s mouth snapped shut again, the same shudder to his figure with each moment that passed. “I want this.”

“I’d hope so. I’m just gonna say it’s a surprise. Not a huge fucking surprise… It’s weird, people get this thing after they see the people die. Happens,” he shrugged, a gesture of his hand to indicate the world at large. “Daughters with their dads, wives with their husbands, girls with their friends. It’s uh, not usually the guys, but I’ve been on your dick quite a fucking lot. Same as you though. Fuck, you just keep on gettin’ on me.”

Rick shrugged, a defeated air to his posture. His shirt was gone, but he isn’t shy. He had recognized it before that Rick didn’t fear him, not one on one. It’s what Negan can do at large to his people that mattered. There’s a direct defiance to his posture when they’re like this, one on one, and all Negan can do is enjoy the view.

“C’mon, come in closer.” Negan snapped his fingers, to gesture with his fingers before him.

Rick flinched as he did, a restrained attack turned into a smaller action. He still had his jeans on, his boots, and that suited Negan fine. He shifted his posture from lazy appreciation to active attention. He looked over Rick, who looked dead in his expression but alive in his eyes.

It’s there, that spite, but Negan got that. His wives had it sometimes, a few other people had, too. He doesn’t mind that people hate him, so long as people pay attention to him. Blah, blah, there’s psychology to it, but right now all he can think of is how Rick had said he wanted this.

“You ever been with a guy before?”

Rick furrowed his brow, only to shake his head.

“Wow, I am just -- this whole cooperative thing you have going on. I like it a fucking lot, Rick. Really good,” Negan sat forward, though Rick was positioned between his knees. It was a mimicry of earlier, when Negan had forced Rick into position by the table.

The whole day had been a display of dominance, and Rick wanted so badly to be good.

Negan hooked an ankle at the other’s thigh, to encourage him closer. He smiled all the same, a fondness to his expression that had been there as long as he’d known Rick. It hadn’t happened often, this attachment to another man. It isn’t in any deep, emotional sense of the term. Negan isn’t heartless, per say, but he thought with his cock first and everything else second. Only in the matters of sex, he’d balance his heads, but there was little genuine affection on his part.

Whatever he wanted to fuck, he fucked, so long as consent was there.

Which was kind of the big thing here.

“I’m gonna let you suck me off, despite the lack of practice. I’m kinda a stickler for blowjobs, I have high fucking standards, but you’ve been that fucking desperate so I figure you deserve a treat. So, so,  _ so _ . Some ground rules.” There’s a shift of posture as he yanked the Colt from the back of his pants.

Rick watched, his hands empty with the lack of Lucille.

“First -- where’s my girl?”

The penny dropped, only for Rick to push back and away. Or, he tried to, but there’s a foot on his thigh and a hand in his hair. The gun had been dropped behind him, pinned between the back of the couch and his leather, though he snarled down at Rick.

“Don’t -- you fucking move, not unless I fucking tell you, you can.” The voice softened, though the grip on his hair only tightened. “That’d be rule fucking one. You hold onto Lucille with your left hand, right is a free-for-all. I see you go for the gun, I feel you bite or do shit that ain’t cool, you lose the right hand. Literally. Just, pop that shit right off. Mistakes happen, I won’t kill yah over shit, but I’m doing you a favor.”

Rick nodded, eyes narrowed up at Negan.

“Rule two, you want out, you say -- ooh.” Negan paused, his hand in gentle circles against Rick’s jaw. He thumbed his lips, attention drawn across his eyes, his mouth, all the places that mattered most. “Got an idea?”

Rick had pressed his lips shut against the pressure of Negan’s thumb. He maintained the pressure, a smile in place as he waited for the response. “Atlanta.”

“Sure, you say that shit, we’re done.” Negan ran his free hand through his hair, his bare thumb still pressed against Rick’s mouth. He hooked it around the other’s tongue, an idle battle of muscle and bone. There’s an apprehension at first, the clumsy motion of Rick’s tongue in competition with Negan’s movements.

But more than that, there’s an immediate spark down his spine to the base of his cock and he is so on-board.

“Rule three is have fun.”

His free hand defaulted to his belt, the one that held his jeans in place. There was his holster and his jacket, but they’d stay in place. He didn’t undress for this shit, not much more than a popped fly. He worked the belt out of place and tossed it beside him. The gun was placed beside it, with a warning look to Rick.

Rick, who had learned the first lesson about blowjobs was to swallow.

Negan didn’t revel in rape or forced encounters, not enough to yank unwilling partners to his whims. He didn’t mind tension and he loved a good hate fuck, but Rick had said time and again that he wanted this. If that was a lie, Negan couldn’t find it.

And from how he lapped against the pad of Negan’s thumb, he really couldn’t pick the difference. The command to strip was left off to the side, given that Rick was a virgin in this realm. Negan didn’t tend to  _ like _ virgins, for how needy they could be and how shy they were. It could be fun for a little bit, but he liked a good slut more than a virgin any day.

Rick continued to work at his digit, with all the effort that Negan loved to see. He’d only gotten head from a few guys, and most of them had been before the world fell apart and before Lucille. He wasn’t gay per say, he was more a fan of warm places to stick his cock.

The pangs that ran the length of his body only worsened as he fidgeted with his jeans, enough to shift them open and down. He could keep his kit on, keep himself covered, but the essentials were there. He kept his attention on Rick’s face and posture, with how shy Rick would look beneath him. It’s not any real shyness, it’s more inexperience. The second he found a comfort and a pattern with Negan’s thumb, it’s replaced with an index finger and a thumb.

Then there’s the gag.

Oh fuck.

“You good?” Negan grinned down at Rick, eyebrow bounced down at him. 

Rick nodded, though he seemed mad. He was always fucking mad, so what difference did it make.

Lucille was grasped in Rick’s left hand, while the right... 

“Hey, no,” Negan toed Rick’s hand away from his own crotch. “Don’t be selfish Rick, fuck -- you see me stroking off my cock? No. God, thought I’d fucking trained you better than this and here we fucking are.”

The feeling of warmth and wetness wrapped around his fingers is enough of an apology. Rick kept his right hand on Negan’s knee instead, which he was permitted. He seemed set on a point, as if he had something to prove with how he sucked away at Negan’s fingers.

Negan on the other hand was splayed out against the couch, one knee cocked up while the other leg lay across Rick’s thigh. He kept him close with the press of his boot, and Lucille was kept beneath him. The barbed wire avoided anything soft, but there was a sweet irony to how Rick was getting hard over this shit.

There was a pop as Negan flicked his fingers down and out of Rick’s mouth. There’s saliva, a fucking lot, and Negan was left to wipe his hand off across the couch. He’d at least worked down his jeans in the time Rick had taken to suck on his fingers, enough to get the basics down.

It’s all about the tongue, and no teeth. Negan didn’t need his cock chomped on. Hence why he’d asked how much Rick had done this; not at all, and it showed. That was fine, Negan felt generous. He kept his hand by Rick’s mouth, hand splayed across his jaw as he worked his jeans down that final fraction and -- pop when the cock. Negan could kiss it for how  _ theatrical _ it looked, that porno bob of it over his zipper, the absolute look of shock on Rick’s face.

And if there was ever a Kodiak moment, it was the look on Rick’s face when he was two feet away from Negan’s cock. Where was that camera -- 

“I can’t -- “

“My ego isn’t the thing you’re here to suck, sweetheart.”

There was the safe word as Negan had promised. It was the one Rick had to say if he wanted shit to end, and it remained behind his teeth. He looked at Negan and at Negan’s cock, as if unsure which demanded more of his attention.

Negan let it sit with Rick for a moment, who looked more annoyed than embarrassed. Negan rolled his shoulders back, another grin in place. He made a gentle click sound with his tongue against the top of his mouth, a jut of his chin to Rick. “Get a move on before you kill my boner.”

If it wasn’t for all the terrible shit Negan had done in his life, he’d have sworn he’d gone to Heaven.

Rick started off with a hand, no shit. He reached out with the hand he was allowed to use, familiar enough with a cock to know how to hold it. There’s a few strokes, firm but short, and Negan had to catch his breath. There’s the shift of skin against skin, the unfamiliar touch of someone else matched with the look Rick had centered on him. There’s no shiver or shake to him now. It’s empty and determined, close to an expression of a killer.

Fucking kill Negan for how loud the moan was; Rick hadn’t earned that shit, but fucked if that man didn’t bring it out of him.

It isn’t about the physical, as much as magazines would lead you to believe. You didn’t need the architecture of a perfect blowjob or the top ten techniques for pleasing your man. What you needed was this, the subjugation matched with absolute hunger for his cock. That was the constant match of his wives and his girls outside the walls.

And now Rick, he guessed.

He splayed his legs that much wider, to yank Rick in by the hair. His hand fixed to Rick’s wrist and his hair in tandem, a grin on his face. “I said blowjob -- c’mon, you were doin’ so fucking good before. You’re great at this shit, f’someone who’s a beginner.”

The praise matched Rick’s expression, empty but direct. There was a shyness to Rick at first, as if unsure of what he had gotten himself into, but trust had been formed. If he did as he was told, things were good. They were so fucking good. And it only got better as the warmth and the wetness from before centered low on Negan’s cock, so eager that Negan wouldn’t be surprised if he sobbed with glee.

Despite the heat that formed around him and inside him, Negan kept his gaze on Rick. It was easy to do, as he knew nothing of shyness. He was still ready to take the Colt and end Rick right here, bare torso and precome smeared at his lips. That isn’t an issue.

But Negan had to fucking wonder if this was the plan all along.

“You havin’ fun, Rick?” He watched as Rick settled into the pace from before, the bob of his head in motion along with Negan’s forceful suggestion. He was kind enough not to cram the whole thing in, because he’s not a total asshole. But he did push faster and harder, the lowest of growls sent forth as he fought to keep composure.

It’s easy for him usually, girls who went wild for him and his sounds, but even now he can feel the shift in dynamic. He couldn’t let himself go like he would with a girl, it’s not the same thing and it’s not for the same gains. This isn’t some college girl denied a cherry popping; this is a new level of competition that Negan should have thought harder on.

“Gotta hope they went through this house already, huh?” Negan laughed, a tilt to his tone as he shifted his weight.

Rick only continued to work, tongue eager against the underside of his cock. Whether it was from experience or from porn, he didn’t know, but the guy had a preternatural skill with this shit. Maybe he’d been conned, and Rick sucked every dick he could. Maybe he’d bee in the closet too long, or maybe it’s sheer luck.

It’s fucked, because he seemed to enjoy it. That wasn’t part of the  _ plan _ here.

Rick wanted so fucking badly to be on top, and he could feel that shit. More than that, he wanted to keep his family safe, and that shit was a whole other level of aphrodisiac. He admired submission when it was given to him, all the more when it came from someone strong.

The thought rolled through his mind as his eyes slid shut, enough trust offered forward as he allowed his grip to slip from Rick’s wrist. His hand remained in Rick’s hair though, bunched of it trapped between gloved fingers. The complimentary thrusts turned to demands as he pushed on.

Rick gagged at first, the same as when he’d had the fingers shoved too far back, but he adjusted. Negan had to push harder and harder to get that same sound, all till he can’t be tactical and he can only growl.

“You are such a fucking slut, I should have known -- fuck -- “ Negan laughed.

There’s a peek down at Rick, but the man has a fucking mission. He doesn’t know whether he’s desperate to be done with or if it’s less fun when Rick can’t snap back, but he missed it. He almost wished he’d fucked Rick, rather than the blowjob, but it’s way too fucking late for such a shift.

Lube is one huge issue.

It’s a thing you have to be ready for.

Which, ready…

Negan yanked at Rick’s hair one final time, only to yank the man forward. It’s cruel, but hey, only a lucky few got such a privilege. It was payback of the lie, in whatever way it formed. Negan felt his lungs ripped raw from the exhale and the hiss as he felt his cock soften within Rick’s mouth.

If Rick wanted to spit, he’d not been given the chance.

Instead, Rick is folded down, eyes narrowed up at Negan as he regained his breath. There’s a string of saliva and come from his lips, to which Negan grinned.

“You fucking  _ liar _ . What the fuck, how many cocks have you sucked -- you fucking -- “ Negan continued to smile despite the  _ lie _ .

Rick took the time to stare at Lucille, head dropped low as he regained his breath. “Once, twice, not since I was twenty, maybe.”

“Right, newsflash, that counts as sucking a cock and you fucking  _ lied _ and said you hadn’t -- what the fuck Rick.”

Rick reared back, cheeks red and eyes a similar shade. There’s harsh blue set against his hazel gaze, his mouth red raw and thoroughly fucked. “Didn’t think it counted.”

“You fucking liar. What kind of bullshit is that, it didn’t fucking count -- you sucked a cock. I mean, you just fucking did, no shit -- ” There’s an angry exhale, his eyes livid. “Fucking hate that shit. Making me feel all special, like this is some fucking big thing -- I went easy on you and shit. Fucking… Fuck, Rick.”

Rick stared at Negan, a half-laugh tilted at his lips. “First time I swallowed.”

“Don’t Rick.” He palmed his mouth, hand across his beard. 

Rick remained silent.

It doesn’t matter, not really. Negan tucked himself away no time, though there was still the sense of sweltering heat within his stomach. The Colt was tucked back into his jeans, and he was left with a sense of weight in his chest. He’s an aggressive guy, he took what he wanted, but a first blowjob hadn’t been his expectation. It was given to him by Rick, but it was also a fucking lie.

“Right, visit time.” Negan snatched up Lucille, a sneer on his face. He took to the front door, down the steps, a pep to his step. It isn’t intentional, not put on by any improvement of mood. He could hear the shuffle and shift of Rick behind him but he kept in pace.

“I didn’t -- “

And wham.

The Grimes family mailbox skidded off to the side, the metal clanged across the ground. Negan swung Lucille around a few times. He missed his girl, the wood within his grip and the power that came with her. His tongue pressed through his lips, and he could feel himself recentered by his girl. There’s a slow moment of focus and an exhale, where he returned to a state of calm.

“No sweat, Rick.” Negan grinned sideways, eyebrow raised.

There were Saviors around, though they were in motion with goods and supplies. They watched their boss with idle attention, only to turn their attention back to their work. He snatched up the mailbox, to weigh it in his hand. Before he had a chance to do much further, he felt Rick in his space.

Not on him, no touch, but he was before him.

“I’m ‘sposed to carry that. You said so.”

Negan looked over Rick, a flush to his cheeks as he watched the other man. “You want Lucille back?”

Rick nodded, that same fear tucked back into his expression.

“You’re right.” He palmed the bat off to Rick, only to lob the mailbox at the front door of the house. He laughed as the mail scattered, though none of it would be relevant now. He rushed his hands through his hair, a genuine sense of relief now over him. ”You lie to me again, that’s your head delivered, FedEx style.”

The metal container lay on the doorstep, where the door cracked open. Olivia peered past, Carl by his side. Negan sent forward a wave, his arm fixed around Rick’s shoulders as they stood before the home.

“I get it.”

“I do not think you do, Rick. But you will. Even if I have to keep taking shit away from you until you get it -- you will.”


End file.
